Wishing Well
by GrimJack21502
Summary: Wishing Well will be continued in my Drawing Fire thread to avoid confusion. Thanks to all for reading!
1. Scene 1

Traditionally September was recognized as the first full month of the school year. For many this constituted a tangible dislike for the thirty day timeframe and placed, with merit or not, a topical sense of dread with an underlying sense of loss in the hearts of students everywhere. Most focused on the apparent flaws of the month: a return to school, sacrificed independence, and the pressures of Academia, but those only touched upon the physical, the scheduling of time and the limitations of leisure. September's real power resided in its innate ability to distinctly showcase teenage evolution and the resulting reminders associated with such change.

It wasn't the loss of vacation's free time that was the month's real detraction, but rather September's ability, through warm Indian Summer's and crystal clear skies, to remind those trapped within school rooms that the world of the free and untethered existed just outside the crank windows through which they peered. The month taunted and mocked with images of perceived 'better days', not so long ago enjoyed, and for students, it offered enough similarities and reminders to past school years that the present was that much more different…with each alteration, no matter how minor, more profound.

September was the mirage of water to the lost and thirsty, cell keys resting just outside the bars of the imprisoned, and the ticket stub of a beloved concert, all rolled into one.

In short, September was both a thirty day hangover and a real son-of-a-bitch.

Since Figgins only allowed certain areas of McKinley to feel the cooling effects of conditioned air, the choir room lay choked beneath the stuffiness of stagnation and oppressive heat. On the floor in front of the piano, the ten members of New Directions went through the proverbial motions of their traditional Friday practice. With hair tied up in a feeble effort to cool necks and layers shed to the bare minimum accepted by the Lima Board of Education's Standards and Conduct Council, the students performed the same number that they had rehearsed last Tuesday evening, or the Night of the Rumble, as it was now affectionately known.

Mr. Schuester leaned against the piano, noting each blocking detail and vocal sequence that needed cleaning up, but after a few seconds, Will shelved that idea, as the performance as a whole needed refinement. As the song ended, he remained quiet and simply observed his students. Nearly all of the veterans went over to the chairs and grabbed their smartphones and proceeded to swipe and tap their screens in silence. In turn, they made verbal statements to no one in particular, each lost in their own long distance relationships.

'Mike just tweeted that its hot in Chicago but there's a nice breeze blowing off of the lake,' Tina offered loudly but then she lowered her voice and spoke, presumably, to herself, 'Sounds like a great day to just take a walk.'

'Mercedes texted me a picture of the Santa Monica Pier,' Sam said from behind his own phone.

Blaine looked up from his own phone for a second to glance at the pic, 'Oh, man, that looks like fun. Kurt never sends me pictures of anything in Washington, unless you count swatches for the curtains in his dad's new townhouse. See.'

Blaine held out his phone to Sam, with the latter glancing up from his texting only long enough to say, 'I like the one on the right.'

'So do I,' Anderson absently agreed and started a text of his own.

Brittany piped up, 'Santana sent me a pic t…'

The girl stopped dead, smiled at the screen of her phone, and looked over to Mr. Schue, 'Oh this one's just for me…never-mind.'

'Guys,' Will addressed the entire group but only those not hardwired to their electronics turned to look.

Leaving the piano, Mr. Schuester walked over until he was standing in front of four of his five seniors, 'Guys, could you put those down for a second?'

'Which one do you like, Mr. Schue?', Blaine said to the teacher and held up Kurt's picture of swatches.

Will's ear piercing whistle commanded and demanded the attention of each of the obsessed teens.

'Woah!', Sam said while cupping his ear.

Brittany rolled her eyes up from her phone and looked around the room, 'Was that the fire bell? Are they even allowed to pull those on Fridays?'

'Guys,' Will repeated, 'Put the phones away for a second.'

Reluctantly, the seniors acquiesced, and within a minute the entirety of New Directions had reconvened in the choir room's stadium chairs.

'The night we had the trouble with the Croparazzi,' Will began.

'The Night of the Rumble,' Sam corrected using his best pro-wrestler voice.

Mr. Schue smiled, 'Fine, the Night of the Rumble. After that when we rehearsed, it sounded amazing. Not only were you technically proficient, but you infused the performance with the powerful emotion I'm so used to hearing from you guys. However, in the few days since then, that 'feeling' in the song has been lost. Technically, you are still nailing it, but without the emotion, the song runs the risk of becoming robotic.

Moving over to the blackboard, Will grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote two phrases upon its surface, one at the top, the other at the bottom, with an 'or' separating them in the middle.

'Laudatores temporis acti,' Will pointed to the top phrase, and then moved his pointer of chalk to the second, 'Carpe Diem.'

'Does anyone know what this means?', the teacher asked.

'Carpe Diem,' Artie answered, 'It means 'seize the day'…Oh Captain my Captain.'

'That's right. Carpe Diem is one of Latin's most quoted sayings, and, as Artie explained, it means to live each day to the fullest,' Will smiled but tapped the upper phrase with his chalk, 'But what about this one?'

Silence claimed the choir room, as the students waited for someone else to venture a guess.

'Praisers of time past,' a voice said from the back row.

As one, New Directions turned in shock to regard the student that had given the answer, Brittany Pierce.

'I thought it was some kind of sushi,' with a look of pure innocence, she lifted her phone from behind her pom-pom, 'So I Googled it.'

'Brittany,' Will chastised the girl, 'I said to put those away.'

Her face fell, 'Wait…you were serious about that, Mr. Schue?'

Walking over, Will held his hand open to Brittany, who begrudgingly filled it with her phone.

'Just don't look at my new wallpaper,' she warned.

Heeding her advice, Mr. Schuester placed the smartphone on the piano's top and continued.

'I am shocked to say but Goggle is right; this does indeed mean 'praisers of time past'. Anyone want to 'layman-ize' this for us?'

'You mean, like, a person that lives in the past and, I don't know, always says 'remember when', Blake Ryan ventured from the front row.

Pointing the chalk at the junior, Mr Schuester answered excitedly, 'Exactly! Some people get stuck in the past and fail to see the present as a gift and the future as something wholly unwritten. They never experience new adventures or glories because they are mired in events long gone.'

Tina tilted her head, 'I know where you're going with this, Mr. Schue, but I hardly think that we should be labeled 'Praisers of times past'. We have girlfriends and boyfriends that aren't here anymore, its different.'

'Is it?' Will questioned his co-captain, 'Look at the messages you all just received.'

Mr. Schuester pointed his chalk at Tina, 'Mike is enjoying Chicago, enough to tweet about the day's weather.'

His chalk left Tina, pointed to the lower Latin phrase, and started tapping, 'Mike Chang…Carpe Diem.'

In turn, Sam became the target of Mr. Schuester's chalk, 'Mercedes is out at the Santa Monica Pier,' again he pointed at the board, 'Carpe Diem.'

Moving to Blaine, Will repeated the process, 'Kurt's out doing what he loves…Carpe Diem.'

Finally, his chalk landed on Brittany, 'And I don't think a day has passed in the last eighteen years that Santana hasn't seized.'

'So, what,' Blaine asked, 'Are you asking us to forget about our significant others and have our own fun? Because, with all do respect, Mr. Schue, there's no way in hel…'

'That's not what I'm saying, Blaine,' Will interrupted, 'But you all need to find a way to be more like Mike, Mercedes, Santana, and Kurt. Love those you love, but don't forget to love yourselves as well.'

'I don't think the church likes that,' Brittany stated.

At the mention of 'church', Joe Hart's eyes widened, and he shot his hand skyward.

Will nodded to the polite young man, 'Yes, Joe, please tell me you have something to add.'

Joe stood up, barely able to contain the excitement coursing through him, turned to the others, clapped his hands and shouted, 'A revival!'

Nine blank stares met Joe's…ten if you counted Mr. Schuester's.

Not understanding their silence, Joe continued, 'We can have a revival up at the Wishing Well! Tomorrow! Carpe Diem!'

Again the students simply stared, but this time Will scrunched his eyes and tried to connect the dots.

'Joe, you don't mean an 'evangelical' revival do you?'

'No, Mr. Schue,' Joe shook his head and fanned a few of his dreadlocks across his shoulders, 'I mean, my youth group used to have religious revivals at the Well, but what I'm suggesting is more…spiritual. There's a perfect spot for a picnic, swimming…we could even make a bonfire!'

Nellie's eyes widened, and Blake quickly added, 'I'm in!'

Seeing Ryan's excitement but misinterpreting its origin, Joe's soapbox sell rose to a fever pitch, and he went in for the proverbial kill.

'And the best part,' Joe paused for effect, 'No cell-phone reception!'

'Forget it,' Tina quickly shot out.

'No way,' Sam and Brittany said simultaneously.

'I don' think…', Blaine spoke with and over the others.

'Hold on a second,' Mr. Schuester called for quiet, 'How many of you have ever been to Joe's Wishing Well?'

Again the members of New Directions looked at one another.

'I haven't been to the moon either, Mr. Schue,' Tina added.

Will smiled, 'But if given the chance, you'd go…right, Tina?'

The senior girl stared at her teacher in silence.

Mr. Schue again tapped the lower Latin phrase, 'Carpe Diem.'

'Here's this weekend's assignment, go to Joe's Wishing Well, and rediscover yourselves,' Will continued, 'Live your lives and find passion in the here-and-now. Bring the feeling back to your voices, and maybe, just maybe you'll learn that the present has just as much to offer as the past.'

Again Mr. Schuester tapped first the top Latin phrase, Laudatores temporis acti, and then tapped the second, Carpe Diem. Locking gazes with each of the effected seniors, Will finished.

'Which one are you?'

(Author's Note: For those that don't know this is a continuation of the episode/story Drawing Fire. Again, I want you all to know how much your comments and reviews have meant to me. This has been one of the most rewarding exercises of my life. I hope this next story doesn't disappoint :) )


	2. Scene 2

(Moments later)

The student parking lot baked in the heat of mid-afternoon, but despite the oppressive and unrelenting sun scorching the sky and bouncing off the asphalt, the area seemed decidedly less sinister than it had the last time the four had gathered there. No hooded Croparazzi ringed their troupe like the Apocalypse's unmounted minions, and no plain dealing villains like Charlie Booth strutted and spat against the backdrop of lightning and rage. Nope, just a simple space, a place far removed from the exciting arena it had been that night. Yet, despite the boredom that had regained its dominance over the parking lot, New Directions again found themselves in the same spot, faced with another weighty decision. The first had been to stand with Nellie and Blake against the Croparazzi, upon which they had all unanimously agreed. However, this latest motion, proposed by Joe Hart, met not only with speculation but also debate, as the leadership of New Directions seemed unsure about what path to take…or whether any path needed taken.

Four of the five seniors of New Directions huddled in the limited shade afforded by the bulk of William McKinley High, to discuss the course of their beloved show choir. Absent due to the responsibilities required of the captain of the Cheerios, Brittany Pierce represented the only missing member of the defacto leadership council.

'So?,' Blaine started the unofficial meeting with a one word question.

'So?', Sam echoed and looked over at co-captains, Tina and Artie.

'So, what?' Cohen-Chang responded, 'You guys aren't actually thinking about doing this 'revival' thing are you?'

The three boys looked at each other, but none of them responded.

Tina rolled her eyes, 'Please tell me you guys are joking. You are joking right?'

With a half turn of his chair, Artie pulled himself into the center of their loose circle, 'At first I wasn't so sure I liked the religious connotations of this little exercise, but the more I think about it, the more I see the similarities.'

'What are we all going to start dressing in snuggies?' Tina said sarcastically, 'If that's the case, I'll stop by the store and pick up some Kool-Aid.'

'No, I see where Artie's coming from,' Blaine added, 'We need to inject our performances with more…I don't know if 'faith' is the right word, maybe 'passion', regardless, we need to do something now or we'll never go anywhere this year.'

'That will come,' Tina didn't dispute either boys observations but instead saw their current 'robotic' state as part of the learning curve, 'We need time to mesh as a group, that's all. I mean we've only been practicing for a week!'

The four leaders sat in silence, quietly weighing each other to see just how much Tina's words were to be believed.

'No one wants to say it,' Sam finally broke the quiet, 'So I will.'

Pulling himself off of wall where he leaned, the handsome boy took his spot in the center of the circle, 'They're gone and they're not coming back.'

Not needing an explanation as to who 'they' were, Tina snapped in a rush, 'We know they aren't coming back, Sam.'

'Do we?', he shot right back, 'Because when we sing, it's like we are all waiting for Rachel's voice to take the point. I find myself doing the basic choreography because I keep thinking that Mike will add something amazing to his dance sequence, so why bother, and at the end of every song, I almost stop to listen for Mercedes 'big note'. Santana's strength, Finn's leadership and Puck's growl, none of that is coming back, yet we are singing as if they're right there beside us in the choir room. Hell, I'll be honest; sometimes I actually 'hear' those guys, its eerie.'

The other three stared at him, not agreeing vocally, but their eyes and hearts seemed to tell a different tale.

'But do you know who won't hear their voices?' Sam fired off another rhetorical question, 'The judges of every competition we attend. They'll only hear us, and right now, we aren't National Champions…we're just, I don't know, 'reflections and shadows' I guess.'

'And you think a trip to some muddy pond up in the mountains is going to change that?' Tina asked.

'I don't know,' Sam honestly answered, 'But I do think we've got to start trying different things because everything we did with Rachel, Santana, Finn, Mike, Mercedes, and Puck isn't going to work. We sound different but different isn't bad. We're just a changed group now. We just need to…I don't know, help me out here, Blaine.'

'No, Sam's right,' the former Warbler concurred, 'Our entire tone has shifted but we are approaching our songs like we still have six very different voices with us. We need to completely rebuild how we structure our songs to showcase the strengths we have and not the strengths we had.'

'I'll say this again,' Tina asked, her sarcasm gone, replaced by genuine curiosity, 'Do we really think that going up into the hills like Julie Andrews is going to help us accomplish this?'

'Who knows,' Artie offered, 'maybe Joe's revival is the jump start we need, maybe not, but at the very least, we can get to know each other again, as individuals and not part of some whole.'

Artie's eyes blazed with the thought of competition,' I'm not willing to roll over and let some other group take our title, so if it takes a visit to Joe's Wishing Well to get us righted, than, by God, point me toward the mountaintop. I smell a Rocky montage.'

'A what?,' Blaine half laughed the question.

'A Rocky montage,' Artie repeated,' All of us training, running up a mountain, pumping our fists in the air.'

'Montage,' Blaine said with a slight grin.

'Oh hell yes,' Artie confirmed.

A few beats passed, until finally the lone skeptic began to cave.

'You guys know I absolutely hate being in…' Tina shuddered, 'Nature.'

Artie laughed, 'How do you think I feel? I'll be going off-road, and that, my friends, is a bitch.'

'Oh my God, Artie, I didn't even think about that, how ar…', Blaine started.

'Don't worry,' Abrams winked, 'I've got it covered.'

'So we're doing this?' Tina sighed.

The three boys looked at each other and then nodded.

'We owe it to ourselves and to Nellie and Blake, for that matter. They didn't make the run with us to Nationals last year...they don't know what its like to win the whole damn thing. I'm with Artie. It's not really a choice...we 'have' to do this,' Sam finished.

Tina leveled a cool stare on each of the boys before she ultimately said, 'So help me, if I get one bug bite,' she shot her finger up in emphasis, 'ONE! I am going to make your lives a living hell.'

Artie raised his gloved hand, 'Excuse me, but how would that be any different than right now?'

A smile stretched across Tina's face, 'Oh, sweetie, you ain't seen nothing yet.'

The group starting laughing, albeit a bit cautiously on Artie's part.

'I'll call Joe and we will set everything up,' Sam said, 'When we've worked out the particulars, I'll text you guys.'

All three boys looked at each other, smiled and simultaneously said,

'Montage!'

Tina rolled her eyes.


	3. Scene 3

(10 minutes later)

'I shouldn't be sitting with you…alone like this,' Michael shifted nervously in the passenger seat of Blaine's car and readjusted the air-conditioning vent for the tenth time, 'People might see us.'

'So what if they do,' Blaine demanded, 'It's over a hundred degrees outside. Anyone that looks will think we are just…I don't know, 'getting out of the heat'.'

With an incredulous roll of his eyes, Michael's faced scrunched into a smirk, 'Seriously. You've got a boyfriend all the way in Washington and I'm single; people will see this as more than two guys getting out of the heat.'

Blaine shifted in his seat so he faced Michael, 'Well, since we're on the subject, what are we then?'

The senior's hands gestured to this space between them, 'What are we calling…'this'?'

Michael sighed, ignoring the direct question and deflected to another topic, 'Why am I here, Blaine? What's going on? I thought I made it clear last spring that I really wasn't interested in a relationship.'

'Yeah about what you said…I don't believe you,' Blaine answered plainly.

Michael snorted, 'I don't care, if you believe me or not, I am saying that I don't want to see you.'

Hurt and sadness ghosted across Blaine's handsome features, enough so that Michael added some clarification to his brash statement.

'Listen, Blaine,' Michael's tone had softened somewhat, 'I don't hate you or anything. I just…I just don't think I can handle the 'societal expectations' associated with having a public relationship with you.'

'Oh, my, God,' Blaine half-barked, half-laughed in disbelief, 'Did you just pull the 'homophobe card'?'

Back-peddling, Michael quickly moved to better define his statement, 'No, no, no! Jesus, Blaine, I'm not some closed minded bigot! I meant that, if we had an open relationship, I'd be…I don't know how to say this without sounding like an asshat so I'll just say it…I'd be 'Lando Calrissian' to your 'Han Solo'.'

Confusion replaced the hurt on Blaine's face, prompting his next question, 'You're saying…wait, what are you saying? That McKinley would look at us like two characters from Star Wars?'

'Lando didn't appear until Empire, but that's beside the point,' Michael continued in a rush, 'What I mean is you'd be the 'cool one', the singer, the National Champion, the…the 'senior' for God's sake, and I'd be 'the-guy-that-does-the-same-things-only-not-as-well'. Everyone would compare me to you and ultimately discover I'm just a pale imitation.'

Blaine reached across and put his hand over Michael's, 'Don't ever think that…ever. When you moved back last spring, all I wanted to do was introduce you to all of my friends and show you off. Not because of our relationship but because of the type of person you are. You're funny, smart, and a hell of a singer; I mean, you could use some fashion tips, but that's neither here-nor-there.'

With the last part, Blaine allowed a grin to slip across his face, letting Michael know that he was indeed kidding…mostly.

Michael sighed and politely pulled his hand from under Blaine's, 'I need to make it on my own. Correction, I'm 'making it' on my own. If we start hanging out, it'll put me in an awkward spot, and next year when you're gone, I'll be left with a label. I just, I just can't have that.'

'I'm going to ask this one time,' Blaine's gaze lowered, 'Is it because I'm out?'

'Jesus!', Michael swore, 'I really am coming off like a prick aren't I?'

'You seemed awful worried about us being seen in the car together, so now I need to know, is it because I'm openly gay?' Blaine brought his eyes to Michael's and repeated his question.

Michael waited a beat before continuing, 'Sort of, but not in the way you think.'

'What other way is there?' Blaine demanded his eyes narrowing defensively.

'Okay,' Michael sighed trying to get his bearings so as not to cause further miscommunication, 'Let's say we hang out. Let's say you talk me into show choir. Let's say we perform together, sing and dance, just like we used to do. Everyone starts to tell us how much we look alike…just like they used to do. McKinley starts to see us as the same person, just like everyone used to do. How long do you think it will take until I'm 'you'?'

'Just because we look alike doesn't mean everyone would think we are the same person,' Blaine stated with as much confidence as he could muster.

Michael smirked, 'You know that's not true. I'd be everything you are in a matter of weeks, maybe days, and while I could care less if people think I'm gay, the reality is I'm not. You're gay so I would be 'gay' too…in the eyes of McKinley anyway. Someday I'd like to find a girlfriend, someone to spend my time with, someone to love, just like you found Kurt. If everyone thinks I'm gay that makes my job twice as hard, and as this conversation proves, I have a tough time getting my thoughts and feelings across. I'm a nerd, and I've accepted that, but what I can't accept are labels and lies. I'm…I'm just not 'cool' enough to fight through a gauntlet of rumor-mongers and Internet accusations.'

'I think your view might be a little fatalistic, don't you?' Blaine responded.

'So I don't put my foot in my mouth again this next part isn't supposed to be disrespectful, but I think your view is a little naive,' Michael jerked his head toward the building over his shoulder,'Look around McKinley, Blaine. The students aren't ruled by their own reasoning and experiences, they're 'told' what the truth is. They hear that someone is a slut on Facebook, and that girl goes through high school as a 'slut', even though, in reality, she's never so much as played spin-the-bottle. Reality isn't 'lived', it's 'created' by others, and when the last straw is pulled, you are either on the winning team…or you're the 'slut' that's never been kissed. As for me, I'd rather be in a position where I'm calling the shots and giving myself an advantage for when I finally meet someone.'

'You are starting to sound like that idiot that runs the Croparazzi, Charlie Booth. You don't know him do you?', Blaine's eyes peered into Michael's.

Forcibly keeping his gaze steady, Michael lied, 'No, but I've heard of him, which just proves my point. If we hang out and do the same things, a group like the Croparazzi will tell a much different story than the truth because the truth would be too boring. I'd be 'out and proud' in a week, and I don't have enough game to talk to a girl, let alone explain that I'm not gay 'before' I talk to her.'

While the fan of the car's air conditioning provided the only sound, the boys stared at one another, in many ways the mirror images Michael so feared they would become…again.

'I tell you what,' Blaine's voice finally usurped the air conditioning for auditory dominance of the space, 'We are all going up to the mountains tomorrow, just the members of New Directions. We will be hanging out, playing music, swimming, singing, and just enjoying the weather and the company…why don't you come with me?'

'I thought I just told you that…', Michael started.

'I know, I know,' Blaine raised his hands in surrender, 'But there won't be anyone else from school, just us. You could hang out and keep your precious reputation intact. You might even have fun.'

Michael rolled his eyes, 'I don't have a 'precious reputation', Blaine; I don't have 'any' reputation. I just don't want to end up with a false reputation that I'm too awkward to get out from underneath.'

'No, I get it,' Blaine smiled genuinely, 'And what you say makes sense. I guess I've just gotten used to the Hummel way of doing things: being yourself and to hell with the haters.'

Michael's head dropped, 'Man, I wish I could be like that, but I…I'm just not as strong as you two.'

'No, you're stronger…you just don't know it yet,' again Blaine put his hand over Michael's, 'At least think about coming with us. I'll text you the details as soon as I hear from the others.'

The senior's hand squeezed the sophomore's, and Blaine whispered, 'I love you, Michael, and I always will, so as much as I might be annoying you, I'll always be here for you…always.'

'Man, I love you too,' Michael smiled, 'Hell, when we were growing up, you 'were' Han Solo to me, and you still are. I'm just the idiot that's too worried about being picked on to…to…to act more like you and your boy, Kurt.'

Blaine nodded, his eyes glistening, 'Think about going with us, okay?'

'No promises,' Michael placed his hand on the passenger door's latch, 'I'm sure Mom has a metric 's' ton of stuff for me to do this weekend.'

'Tell Aunt Cathy I said 'hi',' Blaine smiled, 'And tell her that if she lets you come with us tomorrow, I'll come over on Sunday and help you do whatever needs doing.'

Michael rolled his eyes and climbed out of the car, 'You always were a 'kiss up'…guess that's why you're her favorite nephew.'

'Take care,' Blaine's face grew solemn, 'And call me if you need me.'

'Will do,' Michael said and slammed the door.

Moving back toward McKinley, Michael watched as Blaine backed up and then drove out of the student parking lot.

Moments later, Charlie Booth emerged from his car and joined him.

'So,' the leader of the Croparazzi purred, 'How's your cousin?'


	4. Scene 4

'_How's your cousin?'_

Laughing at the manufactured civility, Michael rolled his eyes over to Charlie, 'Do you really care?'

'Not really,' Booth confessed, 'But my momma always said 'you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar'.'

The younger boy stared skeptically at the older boy's profile.

'Your mom didn't say that did she?' Michael started laughing, having already divined the answer.

Charlie started chuckling too, 'Nope. She's not a real font of motherly sayings, but if you ever need a drink recipe, she's your girl.'

Michael's mirth evaporated and for a minute he just stared at Charlie, realizing that for perhaps the first time, Booth had produced an honest, genuine statement. Though sunglasses hid the junior's eyes, Michael saw the skin scrunch around the outside of the lenses, as if the eyes beneath them had pinched closed in a decidedly emotional response.

Without thinking, Liston raised his hand to put it on Booth's shoulder, 'I didn't mea…'

Shifting away from Michael's touch, the leader of the Croparazzi redirected the conversation, 'Well, well, what did Mr. Anderson have to say?'

His hand hovered over Charlie's shoulder for a second, before he abandoned his attempts at comfort and lowered his arm to his side.

'Nothing,' Michael said absently, 'Blaine just wanted me to go with him tomorrow on some sort of 'field trip' New Directions is taking.'

'And what did you tell your cousin?' Charlie's mirrored sunglasses faced the exit of the parking lot, lingering on the spot where Blaine's car had left his sight.

'I told him I wasn't interested, but he said he was going to text me the details anyway,' Michael responded truthfully.

'Oh you're interested,' Charlie smiled still staring off toward the long gone Blaine, 'You're very, very interested.'

Michael looked over at his 'boss' and mustered up enough courage to complain, 'Come on, Charlie, we were going to play Mass Effect this weekend.'

'And now I will be flying solo in my man-cave, while you're going on a real life adventure with your dashing older cousin. If you ask me, I think you got the shit-less end of the stick, Mikey,' Charlie slapped him on the back and flashed his malicious grin, 'Oh, be sure and take your camera, I want to see plenty of pictures when you get back...a few candids of Ms. Baker would be particularly pleasant.'

Charlie drifted off in thought for a moment before he continued, 'By the way where are we on her 'pictorial'?'

Michael shrugged absently, 'I've pulled all the pics from everyone's phones and cameras, wiped the hardware clean, and backed everything up on a zip. I was going to finish enhancing them this weekend, but that was before you had me going on some damn picnic.'

The junior smiled, 'This takes precedence, Mikey. Pictures like the ones you have the opportunity to take could prove invaluable in the future.'

Michael hesitated; his sense of self-preservation torn between the powerful Charlie Booth and his familial loyalty to Blaine Anderson. Recognizing his protege's conflict, the manipulative junior addressed the source of the pause.

'You're thinking that if those pictures appear online, your cousin will know you took them, right?'

Michael nodded, 'That's right.'

'Yet, you want nothing to do with Blaine,' Charlie countered.

'That's…that's not it. Listen, I have my reasons and you know most of them,' the sophomore barked.

'Well,' Charlie's delivery seemed akin to a that of a politician, or a cult leader, 'Why not think of this as a chance to finally make a decision about your cousin? A poop-or-get-off-the-pot type moment.'

'What do you mean?,' Michael's eyes narrowed.

Booth turned, removed his sunglasses, and grinned, 'Go with Blaine tomorrow, and see how it goes. Come back with pictures, and I'll know that you have my back. Come back a member of New Directions, and, well, no hard feelings.'

A palpable confusion floated across Michael's face and made the air thick between the two friends. Though he had never been in a relationship and lacked any real point of reference, the sophomore suddenly felt like he was being…'dumped'.

'You've told me countless times that I'm one of the Croparrazi's greatest assets,' Michael' s desperation crept into his words, 'Why would you risk losing me to my cousin?'

'Because, I'm your friend, Mikey, and I only want what's best for you,' without warning Charlie hugged Michael fiercely, 'I love you enough to let you go. Fly, little bird…fly.'

Michael Liston stood in shock for a second in the awkward one-sided embrace of Charlie Booth. After a moment, Michael noticed that Charlie was shaking, and a second after that he recognized the movement for what it was, laughter.

The younger boy pushed Charlie off of him, with the latter exploding into hysterical giggles during the extraction.

'There's something wrong with you, you know that right?' Liston stated.

Tears ran down Booth's face, and he cackled in glee at Michael's annoyance. Finally he moved back beside the sophomore and threw his arm around his shoulders in a genuine sign of affection, 'Listen, all kidding aside, just go with him tomorrow get some pics of those clowns with their metaphorical 'pants down'…'

Charlie cocked his head in thought, interrupting himself, 'Though 'actual, non-metaphorical' nudes would be awesome.'

"And what happens when my pictures show up online?', Michael questioned.

Charlie smirked, knowing that that was only a problem for someone far less intelligent than he, 'Please, first, you're going to e-mail all of the pictures to the members of New Directions. Second we'll wait like a month or two before we use them. Finally, we'll do a symbolic 'hack' of that idiot Brittany Pierce's phone and the Croparazzi will be the 'bad guys'…not Michael Liston.'

'Why the coverup?' Michael wondered aloud.

Charlie smiled, 'Because, my dear Mikey, I want you on the inside, trusted, so much so that everything New Directions does that might be, oh I don't know, embarrassing, you'll be in a position to feed it to me, bite by delicious bite.'

Michael sighed, knowing that ultimately he needed Charlie far more than he needed Blaine, 'What do you want me to do?'

Charlie squeezed the younger boys shoulders, and put his sunglasses back on, 'I want you to go up into the mountains and have a blast, Mikey…have a blast!'

(Author's Note: Thanks again for all the helpful reviews! Sorry if the last scene was a bit confusing but I wanted to make it look like Blaine might be 'straying' ;) Also, Charlie references the events of Drawing Fire in the scene above, so if you haven't, check that story out for clarification. Finally, Blellie returns in full-force with the next scene ;) Thanks again, you guys are amazing!)


	5. Wishing Well Redirect

Author's Note: Please be aware that I've decided to continue this story in my original 'Drawing Fire, and other Gleeful tales' – thread.

A few people were having problems finding the separate Wishing Well episode so I decided to take the recommendations of a few of you and combine the episodes into one story.

Thanks to all for all of the help and for reading!

Please feel free to PM me with any questions!


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